


Carried Away

by lokiarrty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Student Sherlock, Teacher John, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokiarrty/pseuds/lokiarrty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John was battling with himself internally. Letting Sherlock kiss him was a mistake, wanting Sherlock to kiss him again was wrong. He was Sherlock’s teacher, no matter how mature or smart Sherlock was, he was still his student, even if it didn't feel that way."</p><p>John Watson, a 29 year old teacher would not have expected his relationship with his student, Sherlock Holmes (17), to go so far.  What starts out as a few innocent experiments turns into an affair that neither participant is willing to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Build Up

 

John Watson had always thought himself to be a moral man. Honest, hardworking, and kind were just of few of the traits he valued in himself, but that was before he met Sherlock Holmes. He found that his moral stance faltered when he was near him. Sherlock was an arrogant, stuck up, know it all and John was in awe of the boy. He was far more intelligent than any other student John had ever had, and most likely the smartest person he had ever held a conversation with. It seemed as though it was destiny that Sherlock would be placed in John’s advanced Biochemistry class because a) John found class to be less boring when he had a student who could keep up and b) John had been the first teacher to give Sherlock praise instead of detention for knowing more about the subject than his teacher. Sherlock had latched onto that feeling of praise and one day after class he asked Mr. Watson if he would assist him on an experiment he had been working on alone at home. He found he needed more than two hands and an extra set of eyes to make sure the entire experiment didn’t fail… or rather explode. John agreed and soon this became a weekly affair. Every Tuesday Sherlock would come by after school and they would set to work. Then every Tuesday became every Tuesday and Thursday, then every Tuesday and Thursday became every Monday through Thursday. And soon Sherlock was spending every day after school with the only teacher he deemed worthy to work with. 

They worked well together. Sherlock would bark orders and John would comply, eager to see how the genius worked. Sometimes Sherlock would ask John questions about how certain chemicals worked together, or how many drops of acid it would take to change the chemistry of a cell, and it made John feel helpful when he could provide the answer. Most of the time Sherlock would say or do something John found amazing and he would give him small praises like “fantastic”, “amazing”, “clever”, and Sherlock would smile, unable to contain the happiness those small words gave him. 

Their entire arrangement was a sort of reversal of roles; John now becoming the student and Sherlock the teacher. Sherlock would walk into John’s classroom after School and right away he would start explaining what experiment they were going to do that day. He always had to have a few ideas in mind because some of the experiments he wanted to do, John deemed too dangerous to try, or that there were not enough materials to complete it, and they always completed the experiments no matter how late it got. Some days they stayed in until well after dark and John would order take away for the two of them. Sherlock never wanted to eat but John found with a little persuasion he could get Sherlock to take a few bites. The days that Sherlock ate an entire meal felt like miracle to John and he’d smile at Sherlock and Sherlock would blush and say “I need to eat sometimes.”

One day John was sitting on a stool, staring into a microscope and trying to distinguish the bacteria from the white blood cells extracted from an infected cat when Sherlock pressed his chest to John’s back. It was very brief and only done so that he could reach over to grab his notepad. It was innocent enough. John knew Sherlock didn’t mean anything by it. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t have know John enjoyed the warmth that Sherlock provided, or how it made him shiver when he felt Sherlock’s breathe against his neck. No, he couldn’t have.

The next time they came into close proximity was when they sat side by side eating on one of those rare days that they stayed in late and Sherlock actually ate. John had a small red couch in the back of his classroom. It had been a gift from his predecessor who said “Sometimes you’ll want to take a nap instead of eat lunch.” John had laughed but he couldn’t deny that he had used it for just that reason a couple times. Now he sat next to Sherlock eating and listening to him rant about how his history teacher Mr. Anderson was an incompetent idiot who must have gotten his degree out of pity. 

“He’s been constipated for the last three days,” Sherlock said like it was common knowledge. 

John choked on the food he had been eating and began laughing, Sherlock bursting into laughs with him. They were laughing so hard that John leaned over to rest his head on Sherlock’s shoulder to stop himself from falling completely off the couch. His shoulders were shaking violently, and the room soon filled with their giggles. Sherlock stopped laughing at the contact of John’s forehead on his shoulder and just smiled down at him, watching the way John lost himself in the joke and laughed like Sherlock had never seen him laugh before. John lifted his head and smiled up at Sherlock, apologizing for using his shoulder as leverage, then continued on giggling as he finished eating. Sherlock didn’t take another bite, instead he watched John eat with a small grin on his face. 

Soon physical contact became second nature: A hand on the small of a back when looking at the others work, standing shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, playfully bumping the others hip with a smile, resting a forehead on the others shoulder when they stayed in late. John knew it wasn’t a proper student teacher relationship, but this whole arrangement wasn’t very student teacher relationship-y. Sherlock was more mature and intelligent than some of the professors John had had. So that’s what John continued to tell himself when he often massaged Sherlock’s shoulders as he watched him work.

Of course all of the physical contact and playful smiles thrown back and forth were saved for their after school activities. During class John had told Sherlock to keep quiet and be nice to his less intelligent peers and to let them answer the questions. That didn’t stop Sherlock from making John smile when he would roll his eyes or sigh heavily when one of them made a stupid statement. It also didn’t stop Sherlock from complaining about it after school while they worked. 

....*....

John caught Sherlock smoking out by the football field during lunch one time. He was furious at the boy for doing something so idiotic to both his body and his brain. He went up to Sherlock and threw the cigarette to the floor, grinding it into the ground with his toe. 

“Are you really that stupid,” John said furiously.

“It helps me think,” Sherlock shrugged.

John held out his hand with an impatient grunt. “hand the rest of them over,”

“But-”

“If you don’t, I’ll stop letting you use the lab and working with me after school,” John said sternly. 

Sherlock handed over the half empty packet of cigarettes with a sigh. John took them and dropped them to the floor, smashing the box of cigarettes with his foot then walked away. Sherlock decided he never wanted to disappoint Mr. Watson again. 

Sherlock came in the next day with silent remorse. He didn’t have to apologize. He didn’t have to say a thing. John could see the apology on his face and he smiled back at Sherlock for reassurance. Sherlock went back to normal and they both pretended that nothing had happened.

....*....

Sometimes John would give Sherlock a ride home. It was a very rare occasion as Sherlock had a driver that would usually pick him up anywhere at any time with a simple call, but days that they finished late and John claimed to have nothing else to do, he would drive Sherlock home. They always rode in silence with Sherlock’s head resting on John’s shoulder. When he first did it John had drove stiff and uncomfortable the entire way. The next time it happened he was more relaxed and he slumped back against the seat to allow Sherlock to rest his head more comfortably on his shoulder. It was on a cold foggy day that Sherlock grabbed John’s left hand and warmed it in his. 

“Your hands are cold,” Sherlock said cupping his hands around John’s and pulling it up to blow warm air into the cocoon he had created. 

John looked down at him and was met with soft eyes and a soft kiss placed on the back of his hand. 

He didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t know why he didn’t stop himself. But Sherlock had looked so sweet and nice and calm that John couldn’t stop himself when he leaned down and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s temple. 

They continued working on experiments after school but Sherlock seemed to lose all concepts of personal space after that car ride home. When he was examining what John was doing he would place his chin on John’s shoulder, press his chest against his back, and wind his arms around his waist. When they would stay in late and he watched John eat he would rest his hand on John’s leg and rub lazy circles with his thumb. When he was ready to leave he would grab John’s left hand and squeeze it. 

....*....

It was on a rainy day just two months after they had started this whole arrangement that Sherlock kissed John. They finished working on an experiment and John helped Sherlock clean the station and pack his belongings into his bag. John walked with him to the door while they discussed what they might do next when John reached out to open the door only to have it slammed shut by Sherlock. John looked up at him in surprised and then was surprised yet again when Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against John’s. It was chaste and quick and John was left standing there in shock as Sherlock opened the door and left without a word being said. 

John thought a lot about that kiss. The way Sherlock had closed his eyes and had the softest expression as he leaned in and pressed his perfectly bowed lips gently against his. How Sherlock’s hand had rested against his cheek and brushed against his jaw line as he left the classroom. Everything about it was sweet, and nice and…John was battling with himself internally. Letting Sherlock kiss him was a mistake, wanting Sherlock to kiss him again was wrong. He was Sherlock’s teacher, no matter how mature or smart Sherlock was, he was still his student, even if it didn’t feel that way. John decided that night, as he replayed the events of that evening over and over in his head, that he would stop whatever it was they had gotten themselves into. He was going to tell Sherlock that they could no longer work together, that they had gotten too close. _Tomorrow_. John told himself. 

_Tomorrow,_ he said again the next night.

Sherlock had walked into John’s classroom the next day with a determination on his face that John had never seen. John stood from his desk ready to give his speech about how they had gotten too close, that he was breaking every rule as a teacher, that his feelings for Sherlock and Sherlock’s feelings for him were misconstrued, but he didn’t get to say any of that. Instead Sherlock walked right up to John, placed his hands against either side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss that was anything but sweet. It was all lips and teeth and John let out an involuntary moan that told Sherlock everything he needed to know to keep going. He pushed John against the wall and crinkled the poster John had there of the brain. John’s hands found their way to the front of Sherlock’s school uniform shirt and he used it to pull Sherlock closer to him, deepening the kiss and letting Sherlock press and open his lips against John’s. Their lips moved sloppily against one another and Sherlock bit at John’s lip drawing a moan from both of them. Sherlock then moved to John’s neck nipping and kissing at it until he got to John’s ear.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like I do you, Mr. Watson,” Sherlock growled and John shivered. He pressed his hips into John’s and moaned against his ear, then he took the lobe in-between his lips and pulled at it. 

“Sherlock, please,” John groaned against the touch. This was wrong on so many levels, but John couldn’t stop himself from running his hand through Sherlock’s curly hair and using it to bring him closer. Sherlock moved to kiss and suck and bite at John’s neck all the while rubbing his rather prominent erection against John’s hip. John was reduced to moans of pleasure and before he knew it Sherlock was on his knees mouthing at John’s erection though his trousers. 

John grabbed at the wall breathlessly saying protests that were ignored by both Sherlock and his own body. His hands went to Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him closer, needing, wanting more pressure on his growing erection. Sherlock rubbed his face against John’s penis with a breathy moan before he pulled away to work John’s trousers open. He fumbled at the buttons and pulled at the waistband bringing John’s trousers and pants down around his thighs at the same time. Sherlock took a second to admire John’s cock before he went forward and pressed teasing kisses from John’s groin to the tip of his cock.

John let out a whimper and braced himself against the wall, his legs spreading further. 

Too far, this is going too far, he kept telling himself, but each time he even thought of stopping, Sherlock would stimulate do something his tongue or his hand that would have John whimpering and moaning and thinking of nothing else but the sheer pleasure of the act. 

Sherlock ran his open mouth from the base of John’s cock to the tip where he took it in his mouth and licked at the glands. He moaned at the taste of John’s arousal and grabbed the base of his cock and worked at the tip with tight lips and a swirling tongue that had John dizzy.

John unconsciously pushed his hips forward and wrapped his fingers into Sherlock’s hair, biting at his lip to muffle the moans that continued to escape his lips.. Sherlock took this as an invitation to take him as deep as he could, and bob his head back and forth, slowly, teasingly, and John was moaning and pulling at Sherlock’s hair to the point of pain, but Sherlock kept going, increasing the pace, watching John’s face and the moans he was eliciting from his teacher. John looked down and meet Sherlock’s eyes which only made his cock twitch and harden even more than he thought possible and he bit his lip harder. Sherlock moaned around his cock and went to undo his own jeans finally freeing his hardened cock and took it in his hand pumping it at the same speed he was bobbing his head. He looked up through his lashes at his teacher who was now on the edge. The way his eyes squeezed shut, and his hands gripped tighter in Sherlock’s hair, Sherlock found John to be irresistible when he lost control like this, giving into the pleasure, giving into Sherlock, it was almost too much, and soon Sherlock was coming in his own hand, moaning around John’s cock and sounding more like a muffled scream, and John couldn’t take anymore. He came in Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock tried to swallow as much as he could but some of John’s cum fell from the side of his mouth and it was both the most arousing and horrible thing John had ever seen. Ever done. 

John had cum in his student’s mouth. Everything about that was fucked up. He had woke up that morning with the intention of never seeing Sherlock after school again and instead of telling him that their relationship had gone too far he let Sherlock give him a blowjob, and a bloody good one at that. John closed his eyes and slid to the floor with a sigh. 

“I fully intend to that fantastic cock of yours inside me next time,” Sherlock said resting his head against John’s shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” John sighed.

“Yes, precisely,” Sherlock smiled. 

John went home that day filled with guilt and confusion. Sherlock tried to tell John that what they did was anything but wrong and he had succeeded just slightly. 

“I knew I wanted you ever since you agreed to working with me. And I know that you want me too. The way your pulse increases whenever I’m close to you, or how your pupils dilate. Just because I’m your student doesn’t mean you should feel guilty for wanting me back.”

Sherlock had said as they laid on the red couch at the end of the room. They had made their way to the couch when John decided that the floor was uncomfortable and that cuddling on the couch together would probably be the most innocent thing they had done that day so fuck it. John drew lazy lines across Sherlock’s back while Sherlock traced circles on John’s chest. John couldn’t take back what they had done so he closed his eyes and pretended that Sherlock was just any other sexual partner he had ever had and not his student. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” John had said lazily.

“It’s too late. Might as well indulge in it now, Mr. Watson,” John cringed at that.

“Please don’t call me Mr. Watson. It makes me feel like a cradle robber and I already feel horrible about what we’re doing,” 

“I‘m 17,” Sherlock complained.

John groaned and rubbed his hand across his face.

“John,” Sherlock whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never wanted anyone before,” Sherlock confessed.

“Sure you have,” John said grabbing Sherlock’s hand and rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“No…I really haven’t. I never had erotic dreams or fantasies until I met you. But it’s not just sexual. I crave being near you. Talking to you. I don’t know why. You… you’re a puzzle John Watson, and I want all of you. I need all of you.”

John opened his eyes and met Sherlock’s. 

“Sherlock,” John said squeezing Sherlock’s hand. 

“Don’t say we can’t. Don’t tell me lies when I know you want me too. I nee-”

John pressed his lips against Sherlock’s cutting him off. That simple gesture sealed what they had together. Whatever that was.

And so there John was, lying in his bed unable to push the guilt he felt away, but also unable to deny the fact that he was intrigued by his new relationship with Sherlock.

That perfect, intelligent, intriguing, Sherlock. 


	2. The Fall

The days to come after Sherlock and John’s relationship changed were only slightly similar to the ones that had come before. Sherlock would still walk into John’s class room after school and present a new experiment or continue on with an old one, but more often than not Sherlock and John would find themselves on the red couch with John being straddled by Sherlock and snogged so thoroughly that John felt like he was a teenager again. It was in moments like these that John was reminded that Sherlock was indeed, no matter how he held himself or spoke, a teenager. Sherlock’s body reacted so readily to John’s, simply craving the contact.

John never initiated the touching or the kissing or the rubbing; instead he would just help Sherlock work and occasionally give him praises on his genius. This was a surefire way to get Sherlock to start fidgeting, his breathing and pulse to increase, and when John saw what his words of praise did he would continue to tease him by leaning over Sherlock while he worked, getting as close to the boy as possibly without actually touching him. He would let his breath ghost over Sherlock’s neck and hum small encouragements, and lick his lips when he knew Sherlock could see him in his peripherals. He knew what it did to Sherlock. He may have the mind of a scientist, far more advanced than everyone he met, but his body still reacted like a 17 year olds body did. Sherlock usually tried to display his will power by continuing the experiment but the tell tale signs of a forming erection were always there and soon John would be pushed over to the red couch for a make out session while Sherlock rutted against him and moaned in the wanton way that always made John’s body shutter. 

John also began giving Sherlock a lot of rides home. Sometimes Sherlock would just lay his head on John’s shoulder, other times he would try to unbutton John’s trousers which always ended in John pulling over in a dark alley and both of them climbing into the back seat. 

John loved getting Sherlock to lie down on the back seat while he slowly undressed him. Sherlock wasn’t very patient, he would usually throw his hips up, or work to unbutton his shirt and pants himself. John would smile and huff out a small laugh before he began planting open mouthed kisses down Sherlock’s body until Sherlock was squirming and begging him to touch him.

On days like that John found that he felt even guiltier about their relationship. He knew he was in too deep, leaving the relationship now would do nothing but make Sherlock angry and himself depressed. He had become accustomed to Sherlock being there to accompany him during his after school hours, along with his drives home. He loved the way Sherlock’s eyes beamed when he found something new that was interesting, or when he made deductions that seemed impossible. He loved being able pick his brain and see how it worked. Mostly he couldn‘t help but feel special that Sherlock had somehow latched onto him. John was an ordinary, short, blonde, normal, teacher, nowhere near as amazing as Sherlock who was smart, creative, arrogant, beautiful, and enigmatic. John didn’t want to lose that feeling of being special. Without Sherlock he was just a boring teacher, teaching bored students. With Sherlock he was in a dangerous situation, full of secretes and experiments and sex. Being with Sherlock made his adrenalin kick in, his senses heighten, it made him feel alive. Sherlock made him feel alive. So leaving the relationship was never considered, but he also knew he would have to take some precautions. 

John was lucky that his classroom was located in one of the more secluded areas of the campus and his doors automatically locked when they closed. Though locked doors didn’t mean he couldn’t get caught. Sometimes Sherlock wasn’t as quiet as he should be during their extracurricular activities. If someone walked by the classroom those noises couldn’t be mistaken. Also, even though the doors locked the janitor and a few other teachers in his building still had a key. If they happened to come in while they were in a compromising situation, he would most likely lose his job and be sent to jail.

John expressed these concerns one day to Sherlock who just laughed.

“I know the thought of us possibly getting caught turns you on. Me being loud only makes you harder, but if you’re so scared of me being too loud I could quiet it down, though if you must know, I’ve taken it upon myself to make the walls sound proof,” Sherlock’s smile was smug.

“Okay genius but what if someone walks in,” John couldn’t hide his anger and slight embarrassment for not knowing the walls had been sound proofed. 

“Easy, no one will,” Sherlock stated.

“And how do you know that,” John crossed his arms.

“Well seeing as the janitor that cleans the science rooms only does so on Friday mornings before you arrive and never sets foot inside otherwise and the fact that you are friends with all other teachers in this building makes it an easy deduction the no one will be coming into this room without knocking or asking for permission before hand, so as for your concerns about being caught it seems I have already thought of and created a solution for,” 

John couldn’t help but smile at Sherlock with his stupid smug expression. The boy was an insufferable tosser at times; always thinking he knows more than everyone, and bugger all if John didn’t love that about him.  

“Come here,” John demanded. 

They ended up testing the sound proof walls that day.

 

....*....

It had been a month and a couple days since their affair had started and Sherlock had yet to experience what he had said the first day the affair started. To say that he was patient was a lie. He was nervous. Sherlock had never been penetrated before but he couldn’t deny the thought of John doing it to him was a very arousing. He hated himself for it but he wanted it to be special. Sentiment. Such a waste, yet he couldn’t help it. He imagined John being patient and affectionate like was in his nature. He also didn’t want it to be done in John’s classroom, or in the car. He had been to John’s flat once, even if it was only for a short while, but he knew when he was in there that that was where he wanted it to be done. John had a small flat that was very John. Sherlock didn’t know why, but he liked everything that was John. He wanted to know everything that was about his teacher. While in his flat he found out he had an alcoholic sister, he had almost joined the army, and had a love for some movies that Sherlock had never watched before. Apparently featuring James Bond… 

On the ride home before the start of the Christmas break, Sherlock was unusually fidgety and when they came to the cross section that meant, right turn home, and left turn John’s place, he asked if he could go to John’s flat. John didn’t know but he had been planning this for a while. His parents, who never really noticed his absence anyway, were out of town visiting his older brother Mycroft. He wasn’t planning on going home that night and he knew that John didn’t have any plans for that weekend either. So, he asked in a soft, pleading voice, that he knew John would never be able to deny, if he could stay at John’s place the night. He rubbed his face against John’s shoulder and looked up at him from under his lashes just to seal the deal and was rewarded with a yes.

They made it to John’s place and went inside the small flat that was so very John with its white walls and smelling of black tea. John went to the television and put in a DVD. 

“Today you’re going to experience something you have never experienced before,” John said and Sherlock’s mouth went dry. 

“Oh?” Was all Sherlock could say.

“Yes, your very first James Bond Movie,” he said enthusiastically. 

Oh. Was all Sherlock could think. 

John made them both cups of tea and they sat on the couch together watching something Sherlock could not focus on. Instead his senses were all geared on John’s hand that kept rubbing his thigh. When the credits rolled John turned to him with a smile and Sherlock leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and nice, which then turned into frantic and wanting. 

“John,” Sherlock moaned as John kissed his neck.

John hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I want you,”

“I want you, too,” John said pulling off and meeting Sherlock’s eyes. 

“No, I want you,” Sherlock whined, “I want you to…” He trailed off.

John bit his lip and his pupils dilated and Sherlock could tell John wanted that too. 

“Bedroom,” John said and they made their way over. 

Sherlock was uncertain about what he was supposed to do; he stood by the bed, tense and nervous. John caught on right away and stood behind him, wrapping his arms around him, his chest pressed against Sherlock‘s back. He kissed at his neck as he unbutton Sherlock’s shirt. 

“Relax,” He said softly and Sherlock could feel his body go slack against John’s. 

John continued to kiss Sherlock’s neck until his shirt was completely unbuttoned and then he slid it off his shoulders. He planted a few more kisses on Sherlock’s neck and shoulder blades before turning him around and kissing his mouth slow and languid and Sherlock whimpered against him. John’s hands found their way to the buttons of Sherlock’s trousers before they were pushed down and kicked off. He maneuvered them onto the bed and Sherlock fell on his back with John on top of him. John went into kiss him again, caressing him, and whispering small encouragements, and if Sherlock didn’t know any better he would have thought John was about to make love to him. 

Just like in Sherlock’s fantasies John was patient and there to cater his every need but he didn’t know it would feel like this. He didn’t know that his stomach would feel like they were filled with butterflies, or that his body would react to such the simple touch of John’s hand holding his. He didn’t know he would miss the feeling of John’s mouth and body on his as he sat up to grab lubricant and a condom from his nightstand. He wasn’t even gone for very long but in those few seconds Sherlock missed him. 

Before John climbed back on top of Sherlock he pulled off his jumper, undershirt, and jeans. The new skin to skin contact had Sherlock’s body tingling. John kissed him once more before he sat back on his heels and pulled Sherlock’s pants down exposing him completely. Sherlock had never felt self conscience about his body before, but in that moment he was. Everything was exposed and John was looking down at him like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before. His heart was beating fast, but it was more than just the state of arousal, his heart ached as though someone had grabbed it.

The last coherent thought Sherlock had before John kissed the inside of his thigh and worked his lubricated fingers on him was “what is John doing to me?” It wasn’t a question of sensations but of thoughts. John had invaded Sherlock’s thoughts until he was all Sherlock could think about. John likes me; John wants me; John…

Sherlock groaned as John worked his hand slowly up and down his erection and traced circles around his entrance. The first slide of John’s finger inside him felt like an unwanted intrusion. John pushed in more and slowly the feeling of intrusion felt more welcome and then in a sudden movement the feeling felt like nothing more than pure ecstasy. He let out a moan and John smiled as he continued the motion. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” John huffed out. His voice was shaky with desire and it made it that much easier to say yes to him when he knew John wanted him as much as he wanted John. His yes earned him another kiss on the inside of his thigh.

The added second finger made him feel a slight burn with the added stretch. It was soon forgotten when John found his prostate again and his head fell back. Soon John was adding a third finger and Sherlock was pushing into them, craving more, wanting to feel that final stretch that would be John, completely and fully connected to him, in him, feeling him, and giving into his want. He loved the look of want in John’s face.

He was saying something incoherent and John’s fingers withdrew from him. Sherlock was panting and he looked over to see John placing a condom on and coating it with extra lubricant. Always so gentle, John wanted to make it as comfortable and pleasurable as possible for Sherlock and for some reason that made Sherlock’s heart ache again. 

John grabbed a pillow and placed it under Sherlock’s hips and angled himself so that the head of his penis was pressing lightly against his entrance. Sherlock tensed and closed his eye, waiting for the intrusion, but was only met with a soft kiss.

“It’s okay,” John was muttering, “I’ve got you, just relax,” 

Sherlock nodded, not trusting his own voice and was kissed again. He felt the tension in his body melt away. John pressed the head of his penis slowly inside. He waited for Sherlock to nod before he continued forward, taking it slow until finally he was fully seated in Sherlock. They stayed there for a while for Sherlock got used to the feeling and then he was pushing back against John urging him to move. John started out slow, moving in and out as they moaned in unison. Then he leaned forward and Sherlock gasped, his legs wrapping tightly around John’s waist. His head fell from side to side with him moaning into the pillow beneath his head. John was moving quicker now, pumping in and out of Sherlock and saying little things like “you feel so good,” “so perfect,” and “Oh god Sherlock you’re perfect.” Sherlock didn’t really hear much except for the white noise in his ears and his own whimpering and moaning. 

He was so close. He could feel his stomach pool up with that incredible warmth and his whole body was shaking and contracting, but he couldn’t he needed, he needed…

John’s left hand found its way to Sherlock’s neglected erection and began pumping it hard and fast and Sherlock forgot everything else except for the feeling of John moving in and out of him while his hand wrung him out. His entire body shook and his body convulsed, crying out John’s name as he came so intensely that he felt he had passed out. When he came to John was pulling out if him, panting and slowly pulling off the condom, tying it and getting out of bed to toss it in the rubbish bin. He came back with a moist handkerchief and wiped Sherlock and himself down before lying next to him was a sigh of content. 

“That was amazing,” John said.

Sherlock stayed quiet, curling into John whose eyes were already closed. Sherlock watched him fall asleep and tracked his sleep cycle calculating when he had entered REM sleep to distract himself. He was exhausted but he couldn’t stop thinking about why he still felt that tingling sensation throughout his body. Why did his heart still lurch? Why did it make him so happy to hear John saying small encouragements toward him? Why had he felt so complete as John finally penetrated him? And then it hit him. He felt stupid for having taken so long to reach the conclusion. It was plainly obvious and annoyingly sentimental.

He was in love with his teacher. 

 

....*....

Sherlock spent a lot of time at John’s flat over the Christmas break. He took this time to learn everything he could about his teacher; what shampoo he used, what books he read, what shows he watch, what movies were his favorite, why he disliked his sister, how his parents had passed away, what sounds he made, how fast his refractory period was, what made him sad, what made him happy…

There were so many things that Sherlock had learned, most of them in seconds of seeing the evidence before him, but what he couldn’t deduce, what he couldn’t see, was why he continued to accept Sherlock’s company. And so Sherlock continued to go to John’s where they did domestic things and had plenty of sex, and Sherlock watched John with a wide eyed amazement that John hadn’t thought this whole affair was tiresome yet. He hoped it would never come to that.

Sherlock’s parents took him on holiday from Christmas Eve until the end of break, and in that week of John’s absence he went over his data on John. By the time school started up again his research had come up inconclusive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, far too much school work but good news I'm done for the semester! Last and final chapter will be up within a weeks time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for all the wonderful kudos and comments. They are much appreciated.


	3. The Reason

 

 

When school started up again there was a clear change in John and Sherlock’s relationship. One small change came in the form of Sherlock no longer being in his class, the more noticeable was the change in how Sherlock acted and reacted around John. That week apart had somehow made Sherlock more open to him. He learned that Sherlock had a brother he despised, parents that paid little attention to him, a love for mysteries(which he figured out on his own long ago), and played violin. He had to privileged of listening to him one Friday evening when Sherlock showed up to his flat having texted him that he had a surprise for John.. It was amazing to watch Sherlock lose himself in something that he obviously loved. He said it helped him think but from the way his eyes closed and his body swayed to the music it was less like it helped him think and more like it helped him escape. Escape the endless amount of thoughts that crowded his mind.

It occurred to John that day that, like the violin, he was a method of escape for Sherlock as well. When Sherlock was bored and restless he turned to John to look for something to occupy his brain. When he had a sulk he’d silently seek out John and curl himself around him. John had only ever seen the open expression that Sherlock wore while he played the violin once before, and it had been the first time he and Sherlock had shared the night together. He knew that Sherlock would never open up like this to anyone else. This was for John and John alone. So he cherished it and didn’t bring up to Sherlock that he knew his secret, that he needed John. Until the day came that Sherlock no longer needed him, John would be there for him.

He also didn’t tell Sherlock that he loved him. John was fond of Sherlock, adored him, and wanted him to be happy. He wanted him to do his best in everything and one day when Sherlock came to say he had officially quit smoking and hadn’t had a cigarette in three weeks John told him he was proud of him. He could see from the look on Sherlock’s face (surprise turned into a shy smile and cast down eyes) that Sherlock had never been told that someone was proud of him before. His heart clenched at this new knowledge. So he hugged him, and Sherlock hugged him back. 

 

…*…

 

They rarely stayed after school any more. John was nervous about being caught and Sherlock couldn’t blame him. He liked it better at John’s flat anyways. John had allowed Sherlock to turn his small kitchen into an area for experiments and he much rather fall into bed than that uncomfortable red couch. He couldn’t deny John’s classroom bore sentiment. When he’d come to visit John during lunch break he couldn’t stop the smile the spread across his face every time he saw the poster of the brain, where he first gave his unsuspecting teacher a blowjob. (He couldn’t help but remember the look of arousal and nervousness that had played across his former teacher’s face.) He remembered the long hours they spent together working on experiment after experiment, John’s fascination with him growing each time he flaunted his genius. The classroom represented the time he and John had spent learning each other, and it bore all the memories of having his teacher fall for him. 

They seemed to fall into an easy routine: Lunch in John’s classroom, sex in John’s flat, grading papers for John/experimenting for Sherlock, and end the day with either a ride back home or (if his parents were out of town) a night in with John. It all felt easy to Sherlock. He never thought he‘d be one for domestic bliss, and even when he claimed boredom, John seemed to always be the cure. One kiss, one touch, and Sherlock’s boredom seemed to vanish. John even learned his weakness for unsolved crimes. 

John was the only person he had ever opened up to. The only person he willingly sought help from. John cared for him, and knew him better than anyone ever had. John accepted him, faults and all. John knew how to calm him down, make him smile, make him laugh. John was the only person he deemed worthy to try and be better for. John was proud of him. John was the exception from every other person Sherlock had met. 

 

John was his and his alone, and he was John’s. 

 

 

 

…*…

 

To guess that Sherlock was the jealous type would have never crossed John’s mind. He thought Sherlock would have seen how uninterested he was by the new substitute teacher. He thought Sherlock would have seen how he had turned her down on countless occasions. 

Sure, she was nice enough, with her long blonde hair, feminine curves, and pretty green eyes, but John found her banal. Their conversations were on the verge of dull, and she seemed to have an obsession about the weather. There, however, was no denying the flicker of anger Sherlock had in his eyes when he stopped by John’s classroom to see her sitting on his desk, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair. John watched Sherlock make a hastily escape, and wished he could have kissed the doubt from his face. The woman left not to long after that, and John spent the rest of the day hoping Sherlock would realize he had nothing to fear. That he wasn’t interested in her. He got a text at the end of the day that read:

 

Don‘t need a ride. Meet at Flat.

-Sh 

 

John didn’t know what to make of this. They usually rode back to John’s together. He decided not to dwell too much on it and grabbed some Chinese take away from Sherlock’s favorite restaurant.

John had barely got his key out of his pocket before the door flew open and Sherlock pulled him inside. The door was slammed shut and John was pushed against it, Sherlock’s mouth mashing with his. At first he didn’t know what to do, he still had the bags of Chinese in his hands, but the possessive way that Sherlock was pushing against him, made it an easy decision to drop them by the door and just let Sherlock take control. 

John, having predominantly only been with women, had never been picked up before, and yet it had felt so natural. Sherlock was manhandling him toward the bedroom before he grabbed John’s arse, hauled him up, and slammed him against the wall, pressing his lips to John‘s neck. John wrapped his legs around his hips while Sherlock rubbed against him and whispering something that sounded very similar to the word, mine. Sherlock had never left marks before, but there was no doubt that John would be wearing a scarf for the next couple of days by the way he was sucking and biting at John’s neck. 

When they finally made it to the bed they were naked, having worked off their clothing on the way. Sherlock pushed John onto the bed and took the time to placed a kiss all the way from John’s left ankle up to his mouth, every now and then stopping the suck or bite at the skin. Sherlock had never paid this much attention to his body before and John was moaning and arching under every touch that Sherlock provided. When their lips meet Sherlock pressed his body flush against John’s and they moaned into each other’s mouth rubbing against each other. 

“Mine,” Sherlock was muttering, and John wasn’t sure he knew he was saying it. 

He got up and John groaned at the loss but before he knew it Sherlock was kneeling over him with a bottle of lube and was urging John to flip over. John did as he was told like he always did when it came to Sherlock and felt hands rub up from his arse cheeks to his shoulder blades and Sherlock grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him back so that Sherlock’s lubricated cock could rub against his crack grazing over his entrance. He moaned and Sherlock copied the motion a few more times and then he was pushing John’s shoulders down so that his arse was up in the air. John had remembered how wonderful that sight had been when he had Sherlock in this position and he wondered if Sherlock was admiring it as much as John had. 

Wet fingers were probing his entrance while Sherlock’s other hand held his hips steady. One finger soon became two, then three, and before he knew it John was bucking back and fucking himself against Sherlock’s fingers. Sherlock bit his lower back before taking his fingers out and replacing it with his cock. He slid in slowly and they both relished in the feel of being joined. Sherlock had been in John once before, but John had been in control. He had straddled Sherlock’s hips and fucked himself against Sherlock cock. This time Sherlock had all the control. After John pushed his hips back against Sherlock’s and groaned for him to start moving Sherlock pulled out all but for the tip of his penis then pushed hard back in. It was hard and fast and the room was filled of slapping flesh and moans. Sherlock leaned forward and nipped at John’s shoulder blades, the words “Mine, only mine, no one else’s” were growing steadily louder and John found himself answering them, whimpering out the words, “yes, yours, yours, I’m yours.” 

Sherlock was pounding into him, the angle allowing him to graze across John’s prostate with each thrust and John let out a loud cry as he came without having to touch his own cock. The orgasm washed through him and his spent himself across his mattress, moaning has he felt Sherlock’s thrusts sputter and his cock twitch inside him as he came inside of John. Sherlock fell on top of him and they stayed like that until their breathing went back to normal. Sherlock rolled off of him and onto his back turning his head so that they were staring at each other. 

“Jealous much,” John grinned.

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling and began to laugh and John joined in. They ended up eating their food in bed, Sherlock taking great admiration in all the marks he left across John’s body. 

It was while they were cuddling together watching Goldfinger that John told Sherlock he loved him. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. He was just admiring the way Sherlock’s face looked in the dark with only the televisions glow to illuminate his features. His strong cheek bones looked even more defined and his blue eyes seeming to glow bright against the light. Sherlock had turned from the telly to look back at John and it just slipped out. 

“I love you,” it was soft and low, and he knew it was the right thing to say when Sherlock’s eyes went wide and his features softened. In that moment he looked his age.

He didn’t say it back, but John didn’t mind, because the smile and the kiss that followed were all he needed. The words “mine and no one else’s” echoing in his mind. 

 

…*…

 

The end of the school year came too soon, and Sherlock was suddenly graduated and set to enter University come early September. 

“We have all summer,” Sherlock had said. 

But summer went by quickly with the new experiments in both chemistry and the bedroom. Sherlock also found that with enough persuasion he could get the Detective Inspector to allow him to look at unsolved case files; he actually helped to solve one of them and was met with praise and admiration for his clever deductions. He had never felt so alive, and John had never looked so proud and amazed by him. 

“That was amazing Sherlock. Hell, I knew you were a genius but to see you work like that, it was… You are really something Sherlock,” John continued to give praise and voice his admiration for a very long time after that case. They barely got through the threshold of John’s flat before they were both at each other. They didn’t even make it past the entryway. 

As soon as the door was shut and locked, their mouths connected and their hands pulled and yanked at each other’s clothing. John pushed Sherlock against the wall and opened up Sherlock’s trousers, his hand plunging into his pants, and taking Sherlock in his hand. He went fast and kissed Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock was already close but he climaxed to John’s words about how turned on he had been when Sherlock made those deductions. How much he wanted Sherlock when he saw him work. He spent himself in John’s hands to those words and couldn’t wait to show off his deductive skills again for John.

 

 

With occupied time, summer slipped away. One more week and he would be off to University. They wouldn’t be far but they also wouldn’t be able to see each other as often.

They spent a weekend together, thinking of nothing but each other. They lay together, Sherlock’s limbs wrapped around John’s body possessively, listening to each other’s breathing.

“Are you excited for Uni?” John whispered.

“I can already tell I’m going to hate it,” Sherlock answered.

John chuckled bringing Sherlock closer to him.

“What will you do when I‘m not there to bother you?” Sherlock’s voice was soft and vulnerable, and he wished he’d sounded less so.

“Miss you terribly,” was John’s response.

They laid in comfortable silence. 

“You know… you’re only going to be about 35 minutes away,” John said.

“Yes well, I guess I’ve just grown accustom to you always being near,” Sherlock forced himself to admit.

“Yeah,” John kissed his temple.

“It’s mostly because I love you,” Sherlock blurted out.

John stilled. 

“John, you see but you do not observe, I’ve told you I love you in every way but vocally,” Sherlock whispered. 

He felt John smile against his temple.

 

Sherlock went through his archive of John Watson again, searching the data he collected along the way about the man. Before, his ideas had come up inconclusive. Now, they were just as unclear, but he had theories. He didn’t mind having to collect more data on him. He would never mind learning all he could about John Watson. 

 

~The End~


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